Glass
by mantheharpies
Summary: It has been twelve years since Sam has seen Danny, and she returns to Amity Park for a simple visit. Although, things are never simple between those two. Oneshot.


Sam Manson stepped out of the cab, ushered a thanks to the driver, and continued her trek down the street. For her thirty-eighth birthday, her husband had decided to book her a flight to her childhood home. What had possessed him to do such a thing, she would never know. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she made her way down the street, slowing and eventually coming to a stop in front of Casper High. It amazed her how well preserved it looked, almost as if the end-of-the-day bell would ring any minute, and she'd see her teenage self descend the steps with her two best friends. She held her breath, just in case, but the school remained still. She continued her walk.

Her destination was not her home—the towering mansion that stood out sourly amidst the rest of the cookie-cutter houses—but a particularly peculiar house with a glowing neon sign and a family of ghost hunters that lived deep within its bowels.

Sam's heart pounded with apprehension. In her mind's eye she envisioned herself ascending the steps, the scent of some poorly cooked meal invading her nostrils. Jack shouting and being jovial, Maddie reprehending him sweetly. Jazz, sitting by the fire and reading a book. Danny would wait for her by the doorway, taking her by the hand and ushering her upstairs where they'd play video games or simply talk. Tucker would arrive later, with boxes of pizza and their reunion would be complete.

But the vast void that was time was not so kind. Twelve years ago, the portal had closed for one final time. Twelve years ago, Danny had fought the battle that would end the tyranny of ghosts in Amity Park. People had died. Tucker's funeral was etched into her mind. Danny had not cried for Vlad, but no one would dispute the fact that the elder half-ghost had fought bravely. Valerie Grey and Jack Fenton were others who had fallen. The battle had come and gone, and with it, their youth.

Danny had asked later that night, her hands in his, to stay with him in Amity Park. She was eighteen at the time, fresh faced and ready to begin her life. She shouldn't have been exposed to so much death. Should not have had to watch the light go out of her friend's eyes.

"I can't Danny. I have to go to college, travel, make an impact in the world. I can't live here for the rest _of my life_. You have to understand."

"I understand," he had said, although he had withdrawn his hands. "But you have to understand that I have to stay here and protect my town. In case-"

"In case they find a way out? In case they come back? In case all our losses were for nothing?"

His eyes brows contorted with agony, his eyes cast downwards. "Yes."

She'd gestured out the window with a nod. Although Danny's room remained perfectly preserved, the streets told a different story. Dead bodies, ruined buildings, smoke still billowing from the remnants of ectoblast after ectoblast. "What if there's nothing left to protect? Everyone is either dead or-or gone."

"I can't go, Sam."

"And I can't stay."

That had been that. Teary-eyed, she had packed up her things the next morning, said goodbye to her family, left and never looked back. Amity became just a distant memory in her mind, barely there yet somehow always looming over her like a shadow. She had never met the boy who was half-dead. Nor fought at his side. Nor had she ever stepped foot into a different realm, one the likes of which no one could ever dream of. She had never flown, clinging to the hand of a hero who was now long forgotten, her young heart beating in her chest furiously. She was Sam Manson. She'd grown up in Amity Park, lived a normal life, moved to New York and become a prominent activist.

She arrived at the home quite suddenly, almost tripping over the steps. She looked up, the Fenton Works sign unlit but otherwise still intact. She wondered if Danny still lived there. Perhaps he had moved on too.

She grabbed the door handle, it creaked ever so slightly, but was open. She pushed the door open and fanned the dust particles away from her face, grimacing at how unkempt but otherwise untouched the place looked.

She made mental notes as she walked around the house, her feet soundless on the carpet. The portrait of Danny, his family, her and Tucker still stood atop the mantle. In the kitchen, the haunted toaster oven remained where it had been twelve years ago. Albeit, unplugged. It irked her how well preserved everything was, almost as if it didn't want to move on. _She _moved on. _She _was able to forget this godawful place. Was it really that bad of thing to do? Could she not think of herself for once? Change wasn't bad. Sometimes it was the only way to survive.

She tipped over a vase. It fell and broke into little piece. There, that was a change. Much better.

She ascended the steps, making her way to Danny's room. A choke threatened to escape her when took in the bed, slightly ruffled, almost as if Danny had woken up haphazardly and made his way to school just that morning. She closed the door silently, unable to bear looking at it for too long, and made her way down the stairs and towards the entrance of the lab.

She almost didn't go through with it. There were too many memories. It was where everything had begun, where she had turned a boy into a hero, where she had laughed, where she had cried, where she had taken the Specter Speeder on countless occasions into the Ghost Zone on a last-minute rescue mission, where she had collected all the gadgets that would one day help her save the world. Her breath hitched in her throat. Maybe it'd be better if she'd just turn around, go home, sleep off the headache that was developing at the constant effort not to break down and cry where she stood.

She had to see it. One last time, before she became too old and frail to walk. She had to see the portal. The door creaked open. She was surprised then, when she recognized a figure in the room. His back was to her as he drilled into some unidentifiable piece of machinery. He stopped drilling for a moment and used his forearm to wipe some sweat away from his forehead. He hadn't realized she was there yet.

She wouldn't have recognized him either if it wasn't for the tussle of black hair that she'd know anywhere. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, he didn't have the red accents on his sleeves. He had grown in height and in build. He wasn't overly muscular, just slightly toned. She hadn't expected him to look out of shape, but he looked almost _too_ good. From the back, at least, he didn't look a day over twenty.

Her eagerness won over her fear. She took a tentative step inside.

"Danny?"

He stopped drilling, but didn't turn to look at her immediately. Instead he placed the drill down and stood up from his crouched position. He recognized her voice immediately. With apprehension he licked his lips, hoping it wasn't a trick of the ears.

"...Sam?"

He closed his eyes as he heard footsteps behind him, not wanting to turn around, to see how she'd aged. He wanted to imagine her as the violet-eyed girl of his youth. Why had she come, after all these years, why had she come?

"Yeah, it's me. Turn around, Danny. I want to see your face."

He gripped at the lab table with such force his knuckles turned white. Reluctantly, he turned around. She took in the lines of his face. He hadn't aged a day, not like she had, anyway. His blue eyes sparkled even in the dim light of the lab.

"It really is you," he said, barely above a whisper. Then he did something she hadn't expected. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her salt and pepper hair.

"I missed you too, Danny," she laughed, hugging him back. He pulled away all too soon.

"Are you hungry? You want anything to drink? Come on, we'll talk upstairs."

He had led the way, but Sam purposely lagged behind a bit, just to take in the lab. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking back at the portal. Its open mouth seemed to be laughing at her, mocking her like it did the first day Danny had shown them the lab. Its severed wires looked like vines that had grown inside the contraption. It was over now, truly over. She fancied the thought of stepping into the Ghost Zone one last time, in the very recess of her mind, at least. That didn't look possible. It appeared Danny had torn the portal's inner workings to shreds, maybe even by hand.

Sam shook her head and began ascending the stairs. She'd have an eternity to spend in the Ghost Zone, she was in no rush. She quickened her pace when she heard a yelp. The broken vase, she suddenly remembered.

Danny stood in the kitchen, hopping on one foot as he pressed a tissue up against the cut to soak up the blood.

"I completely forgot! Danny, I'm so sorry!"

She bent down and began picking up the glass shards with her bare hands. He kneeled and took her hands in his, taking the glass shards from her.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll heal in a moment anyway."

He stood and discarded the shards into the trashcan. After they were done cleaning up, she wrung her hands nervously. Sam was unsure if she should stand or sit, a far cry from the young teen who was at ease in any situation. Danny set down a cup of coffee at the table for Sam and pushed back her seat.

"So," she began once they were both seated. "What have you been up to?"

"Honestly?" he said, placing his chin in his hand, that same peter-pan like boyishness still present. "After the whole...incident, I helped clean up the town a bit, but mostly everyone left eventually. So now Danny Fenton just works on his parent's old inventions, helps old-timers with their errands, and reads books."

"You used to hate reading as a teen," said Sam, tracing her finger around the rim of her mug.

"People change," he answered simply.

"And Danny Phantom? What does he do?"

Danny leaned back in his chair slightly, seeming uncomfortable with the mention of his alter-ego.

"He helps around in the neighboring towns. What the police can't do, I handle. They never ask for my help though. No one trusts ghosts anymore."

"Not able to give up the whole hero act, not even after all this time?" she said fondly, holding the cup up to her lips.

"It was never an act."

"Of course not," she said sincerely.

After a brief moment of silence, she gathered up the courage to ask something that'd been bothering her since she first set eyes on him.

"Danny, how is it that you look so...so _young_?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, his eyebrows furrowing inward, seeming to consider the question. "I guess I just age slower than normal humans. I mean, it makes sense if ghosts don't age at all."

"You must feel like you're talking to an ugly old woman then," she said, regretting it when Danny didn't reply. His eyes scanned the slight lines in her face, her soft purple eyes that reminded him of his own mother's, the gray that was starting to peak through the black of her hair, the curve of her lip, that spark of defiance in her brow that had existed ever since he'd know her.

Finally, he spoke.

"Sam, I could never find you ugly. Never. Don't even think it," he ducked his head to meet her eyes. "You will always, _always_ be beautiful to me."

She blushed for the first time in ages, suddenly feeling young again. "You really mean that?"

"I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

She decided to change the subject, feeling her heart flutter uncomfortably in her chest.

"How's Jazz?"

"She's...She's, uh-" Sam noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down, his eyes glisten in the light. "Jazz got into an accident, a little while ago, right after you left. My mom was driving her to her college. She wasn't in the right state of my mind to be driving, after my dad died, but she insisted she was fine. They swerved...off the road...there was a semi...they both-"

"Oh, Danny," Sam placed her hand over his, feeling tears burn at the back of her eyes. All this time, he'd been alone. All this time and she'd never once called to ask how he was, too selfish and preoccupied with her need to hide her old life that she'd completely forgotten about the one person who was selfless in all he did, in who he was. "I'm _so_ sorry."

"How about you?" he asked, composing himself almost instantly. He didn't want their reunion to be reduced to tears. "Have any kids?"

"No," she said, noticing her coffee cup was empty. "But I am married."

"Does he make you happy?"

"He does."

"That's good."

Then she was on him, the sound of chairs screeching on tile as she pushed him up against the kitchen wall. She pressed her lips to his, her vision fogging as she kissed him the way she always wanted to but never got the chance to. They kissed the only way adults could: with fear and regret and experience and affection and _need_. He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back ever so slightly. There was no space between them, they were a mess of bones and skin and soul and they were one. Her tears stained his cheeks as she pulled away and his breath lingered on the nape of her neck, his hands tracing circles on the small of her back.

"Run away with me," she breathed into his ear. "No one ever has to know. We'll fly to the moon and back. We'll circle the entire world and live to tell about it."

"Sam," he said, pushing her away slightly. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

She took a step back now, feeling like she was incredibly far away when just moments ago there was nothing but clothes separating them.

"Don't you love me?" she asked, her stomach churning as she thought back to another place in time. "Are you really going to turn me away _again_?"

"I do love you, Sam, and that's exactly why I can't go with you. You have a husband, you have your life cut out for you. You get to have kids, you get to grow old. What kind of man would I be to take all that away from you? Look at me, Sam, look at me!" he grabbed her by the shoulders, looking her in the eyes, ice meeting fire, the world cracking and turning into dust. "Twelve years have passed since I last saw you. I look what, twenty, twenty two? What will happen when you're fifty and I look like I've just turned thirty? Huh? What do you think will happen?"

"I don't care!" she screamed, breaking free of his grasp. She backpedaled and bumped into the table, the mug falling and shattering under her feet. "I don't care Danny, I love you! I have always loved you and goddammit _I don't care_! Aren't you tired of being so alone?"

"I am," he said, his eyes downcast. "But that's no reason to be selfish."

"_Be_ selfish for once! Take what you want! Who cares about other people, Danny. Think about yourself. Do you want me or not?"

"Badly."

"Then take me! I'm yours, _gladly!_"

"I can't. You might not understand why right now, but I know that you will someday. But also understand that I will regret this for the rest of my life."

She felt anger course through her veins, the glass pieces cutting into her feet hardly bothered her. It was less than the pain that she bared in her heart, that she had been barring for twelve years, and that had now multiplied ten fold. _How dare he._ How dare he just think he can control her life, as if she were still a teenager, as if she wasn't sure about what she wanted and who she wanted.

"Has there ever been anyone else?" she asked, closing her eyes to calm down her rage, even if slightly.

"What?" he asked, taken aback.

"Have you loved anyone else since I left?"

"No one. No one will ever compare."

She opened her eyes, feeling nothing but despair now, loss. There was no greater pain than to love someone who would never be yours, she realized.

"You have to let me go, Danny, and I'll try to do the same for you."

"What if I don't want to let you go?" he asked, taking a step forward, glass shards digging into his bare feet.

"Then you'll spend the rest of your life alone and in pain."

"If it comes to that, then, I guess it won't be so bad," he smirked, his fingers lightly brushing against her's.

"You'd really go through that? For a memory? A-a ghost?"

"If it is the only way I can bare to have you, then yes."

And they kissed on broken glass shards. It was sweet and it was short. When they pulled away, Danny rested his forehead against hers, their breath colliding between their faces, their blood mingling beneath their feet, their fingers entwined as their hearts said goodbye.

* * *

**I spent forever on the end and I could never get it just right, oh well. This came to mind when I was thinking about how I was going to be a junior next year. "Hm, I wonder how Danny and Sam have grown." And then this was born! I swear, I didn't mean for it to be so much...angst. **


End file.
